


Scatter Like Ice

by charmanderchar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Elucien - Freeform, F/M, Feelings, I'm Sorry, duh - Freeform, elain is sad, lucien is trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmanderchar/pseuds/charmanderchar
Summary: This was not the girl Feyre told him about.(Or, it's not always rainbows and butterflies for Lucien and Elain.)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Googoo Dolls "Black Balloon"
> 
> Characters are from SJM. I own nothing. Also, is it May 2017 already?

* * *

 

The little bits that Feyre dangled in front of Lucien were enough for him to conclude that Elain--- _Cauldron, his mate_ \--- was...a gentle person. A kind and quiet grower of things, the one who could light up a room with her soft smile and easy laugh.

Feyre has kept most of the details to herself, but once, when she deigned to give him something, it was the mention of the beautiful things. She told him of Elain’s beloved garden. The kind flowers she liked to keep. The color of the cloak she liked to wear...

“And there was one summer,” said Feyre quietly one day, her eyes suddenly distant, “There was one summer where she bought me three cans of paint. Red, yellow and blue.”

 

Lucien felt a smile tugging on his lips.

These little things, tiny bits and pieces of her--- he hoarded them and filed them away, like treasures. He’d learned to leash the bond for now--- it was still there, still alive, but he’d buried it deep enough to give him some semblance of control over things. But he couldn’t help that bit of hope from blooming in his chest at the mention of his mate. What had he done to deserve a mate as gentle and kind as Elain? He would not let anything happen to her, not this time. Maybe, _maybe_ this time he could make things right. If he could only see her, get to know her…he’d spare no effort in making her feel that, that she wasn’t utterly alone.

 

“I have to see her,” he says, and even he’s surprised at the sound of his voice, hoarse with need and longing.

 

“Soon,” was all Feyre said, “We’ll see her soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lucien knew the moment she entered Spring. He’d been sitting in a meeting and it hit him so suddenly it was all he could do not to fall from his chair. His head snapped to the door and the bond stirred awake in his chest, prowling and clawing at the faint scent of jasmine and honeysuckle that bled into Spring air.

 

She was finally here.

 

* * *

 

“Lucien, this is my sister Elain.”

 

This was not the girl Feyre told him about.

 

She was as beautiful as he’d imagined. Her eyes were brown instead of blue-gray, but she had the same burnt gold hair as Feyre’s, and her skin had the eternal glow of the Fae.

 

But something was _wrong_.

 

And all of Lucien’s instincts were screaming at him to look at her more closely for injuries, to touch her, _protect_ her----

 

But he could find nothing, until he felt it in the bond.

 

Maybe this was the Mother’s punishment. For him to have a mate, to long for her and hope for her--- and for her to resent him, perhaps for the rest of their very, very long lives in return. Lucien could laugh, if his heart wasn’t breaking inside his chest. Because he could feel it roiling off of her in waves. Resentment. Confusion. Loneliness. And anger. Such quiet anger--- the kind that didn’t raze and burn but one borne in the cold; the kind of anger that lurked in some deep recess of her heart and pounced on her, devouring every kind of warmth in its way. She was _angry_. At him, at that gods-damned Cauldron, at this new body. He could feel it in the bond that stretched taut between them, although there was no indication on Elain’s face that she was remotely angry with him, or anyone. 

She just looked empty. Like she didn’t care. A pretty doll with a hard glint that looked foreign in her brown eyes.

 

Where was the warm girl with the easy laugh?

 

Elain looked at him from his fiery hair to his boots and back. She blinked, and looked out the window.

 

“I’d like to be shown my rooms, if you would, Feyre,” she said quietly.

 

There was a beat. Even Feyre was surprised at Elain’s lack of reaction.

 

“Of course,” said Feyre, “You must be exhausted.”

  
Feyre threw one glance at Lucien- before leaving him there, in the hallway, feeling as utterly alone as he'd never been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He looked like he’d been standing there for a while. His russet and gold eyes were quietly taking her in, his lips parted slightly. Elain could have sworn there was a faint thrumming in her chest when she took him in--- his fiery hair that caught the early morning light, his beautiful elegant face, that wicked scar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: feelings ahead.

Elain wished she could feel something different.

She found herself walking along the grounds of the Spring Court early the next day,  just as the sun was coming up. The grass softly crunched beneath her feet. She quietly took in the grand manor and the sprawling gardens that seemed to stretch out on all sides of the property. She supposed it was a pretty place--- beautiful, even.

She didn’t have to see the entire expanse of the gardens to know that they were filled with the most exquisite flowers--- flowers so rare that that they probably won’t even grow outside the Wall. She’d have toiled for days and weeks and months on end, just to see their beauty. She didn't have to see the rest of the gardens to know that their colors and fragrances and petals existed only in her wildest dreams.

She supposed she should be thrilled. She waited for the surge of excitement and joy that came when she was in her garden, but it didn’t come. It never did, not since she'd been...Made. There had been nothing but a gnawing void since--- A sudden chill passed through her. She stopped short as her breath seized.

_No, this wasn't - - -_

She shut her eyes, balled her fists, willed her breathing to ease, to calm down---

 _Suddenly she was taken from_   _her_ _bed again, gagged and dragged across the throne room of some infernal king--- Nesta was screaming---_

_She'd drowned that day--- drowned and died in that Cauldron---_

She _had_ died. This girl in the fae body---this wasn't her---

Her breath came in short pants but she knew that this panic wasn't the worst part. The worst part was she can’t even find the tears to cry for whatever kind of awful loss this was. There was nothing in her chest now but a deep, endless void, a crushing silence that pressed on her on all sides---

Elain wished she could feel something else. Anything. She wished she’d never gotten out of the Cauldron. How did her sisters--- how had Feyre---

_Breathe, Elain_

She tried, she really did, to go back to the place that led her to hope and saw the good in everything. But it was as if someone locked the door to that room and threw away the key. While Nesta had her anger and fire… Elain’s hope merely… flailed and drowned and the emptiness it left in its wake choked the life out of her. 

_Just breathe_

She tried to gulp down air. She vaguely registered the warmth of the sun on her face, on her arms.

_It is warm, you aren't  in the Cauldron. You can breathe---_

She felt her lungs easing. A gentle breeze blew and with it came the fragrances of the garden and the faintest trace of spice and autumn.

Elain snapped her eyes open with a small gasp and found another pair of eyes  taking her in from a few steps along the garden path. A mismatched pair of russet and gold. 

Lucien. _Mate._

He looked like he’d been standing there for a while. His russet and gold eyes took her in, his lips parted slightly. Concern was written all over his handsome face. 

“Is---” Lucien began, “Is everything alright?”

He took a step towards her and Elain tried not to wince.

She was still catching her breath and already she could feel the heat creep up her cheeks, having been caught in that moment of weakness for the first time. Nesta knew about the nightmares, but none of these attacks that happened when she was awake.

She felt a faint thrumming in her chest when _she_ took him in--- his fiery hair caught the early morning light, his brows furrowed. He took another step, carefully, like she was a wounded animal and he was trying not to frighten her.

The thrum in her chest seemed to grow louder with every step Lucien took.

“Your hands are---your hands are bleeding," he said quietly, and reached out. She looked at her hands. Blood, from where her nails dug into her palms. Lucien pulled out a handkerchief and gently pressed against the tiny wounds before she can move away. She wasn't sure whose hands were trembling. 

Lucien's touch sent a jolt of electricity through her body and she knew that he felt it, too. Lucien searched her face, his mouth a tight line.

"Is everything alright? Are you alright?" he asked again. His hand squeezed hers ever so slightly, "Does anything else hurt?" His voice was gentle, careful. None of the silver tongued male Feyre warned her of. The thrum in her chest seemed to spread all over her body,  even if she didn't it want to. She wanted to hate Lucien. Yesterday she could even hardly look at him. But now he was standing so, so near and her hand was still in his. Was this how mating bonds worked? It was unwise, she knew, but she wanted to lean into Lucien and rest her head on his shoulder while she waited for her breath to go back to normal. 

"It's---it's alright if it isn't," he said. 

"What?"

"It's--- it's alright if everything is not alright," he clarified.

She let him tuck a lock of her hair behind an ear. Lucien took a step back, but kept his eyes.  "It's also alright, if you don't wish to tell me what hapened just now, " he said, "But I hope one day you'll trust me enough to...confide in me. Mating bond or no." he said with a small,  self deprecating smile. Elain didn't know what to say so she nodded. She felt the cold fingers in her chest lose their grip, if only for a bit. She felt out of breath again,  but not for the wrong reasons. Lucien looked down on their hands. "There, that should stop the bleeding." She nodded again. Words seemed to escape her when he was around, too.  

"Now, are you hungry? I was looking for a beautiful lady to eat breakfast with, and I'm afraid Feyre won't qualify." Lucien's smile grew slightly devious.

Elain felt the corners of her lips tug into a smile. The first one she's had in what seemed like a long time, she realized.

"Don't---" she cleared her throat,  "Don't let her hear that," she managed to say.

Lucien beamed, and offered his arm.

"So shall we?"

Elain nodded and linked her arm with his.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Me again with Elucien. Have I told you they give me life? 
> 
> Been eating spreadsheets for lunch, and they're going to be on my dinner menu soon, too, so I figured I better get this thing going while I still can. Adulting is lurking in the corner as I type. But whatever. Adulting can suck it (for now lol)
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you think. I'm too full of feelings for these two. I'm sorry.
> 
> And oh, Happy New Year!


End file.
